


Quid Pro Quo

by a_matter_of_loyalty



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Realities, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Peter Parker, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Dimension Travel, Everyone Loves Peter Parker, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Genius Peter Parker, Genius Shuri (Marvel), Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Iron Dad, Major character death - Freeform, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Break, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker-centric, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, ish, not really tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:28:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23458594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_matter_of_loyalty/pseuds/a_matter_of_loyalty
Summary: Five years ago, it was Tony Stark, not Peter Parker, who vanished in the Snap. Having lost his aunt, his mentor and his best friends, Peter is left to navigate the world and make a new life for himself.Now, five years later, Peter has found his place in the world. But when Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff come knocking on his door, a surprise and a new plan in tow, Peter must confront the hope of reversing the tragedy that killed the people he loved and unraveled his old life.Or: Peter survives the snap, and now it's up to him to bring the Vanished back to life.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & Everyone, Peter Parker & Ramonda, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Shuri, Ramonda & Shuri & T'Challa (Marvel)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 337





	1. A New Hope

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Peter Parker's Adventure Through Time and Space](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15325815) by [Sciencelings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sciencelings/pseuds/Sciencelings). 
  * Inspired by [Last Man Standing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22106818) by [Sciencelings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sciencelings/pseuds/Sciencelings). 



> sooo yes I totally started a new fic. I've started working on my other fics again, though, so keep an eye out for those updates :)
> 
> Elements of this fic are inspired by "Last Man Standing" and (in later chapters) "Peter Parker's Adventure Through Time and Space", both of which are by Sciencelings (who is amazing). I've linked both works to this fic. "Last Man Standing" is an incredibly satisfying fic (I love reading fics where Peter is undeniably a badass), and "PP's Adventure Through Time and Space" is a long but highly enjoyable and worthwhile read, so I highly recommend you read both if you somehow haven’t already done so.
> 
> Side-note: I’ve been hooked by the idea of writing a Peter/Shuri pairing for a while now, so that ship will be one of the focuses of this fic. Of course, there will still be a major dose of Iron Dad, so don’t worry, I could never forget about Tony. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Stay safe, everyone. (Friendly reminder to practice social distancing and maintain your health, guys.) I love y’all <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years after the Snap...

**Earth-199999: _October 8, 2023_**

_Kingdom of Wakanda, East Africa_

Peter stumbled out of his and Shuri’s shared bedroom, hair still messy from sleep. He rubbed the exhaustion out of his eyes and yawned, making his way to the kitchen from memory.

He blinked when he found Ramonda already there, cracking eggs over the stove. “Morning, Umama,” he greeted.

“Peter, darling, you’re up!” Ramonda replied brightly without turning around, swiftly cracking open two more eggs before discarding the shells in a nearby bin. She finally whirled around to face him, grabbing a glass of juice off the counter and quickly pressing it into his hands. “Here, drink up.”

Peter gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks, Umama,” he said absentmindedly, bringing the glass to his lips and sipping. “Where’s Shuri?”

Ramonda rolled her eyes. “The lab, of course,” she answered without missing a beat. “Where else?”

Peter snorted. “Right, right, what was I thinking?” he joked back good-naturedly, laughing.

Ramonda grinned and took the glass out of his hands once he’d finished gulping down his juice. “Good boy,” she teased, and then made a shooing motion with her hands. “Now go get that restless daughter of mine and tell her the food’s ready.”

“Sure thing, Umama,” he said, turning back the way he came from. He navigated through the seemingly endless halls of the Wakandan palace and eventually found himself in front of his and Shuri’s shared lab.

He pressed his palm onto the pad on the door and waited patiently for his primary AI, APRIL, to authorize him. A second later, the doors slid open without a sound and he strode inside.

“Shuri!” he called.

“In here!” Shuri’s muffled voice came from somewhere inside the lab.

Peter rolled his eyes and made his way through the organized chaos of the lab, ducking under certain hanging objects and side-stepping other objects. He finally found Shuri crouched before a suit he recognized as her latest design for her superhero persona—codename: Wildcat—and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Come on, Shuri,” he urged. “Your mom made breakfast.”

Shuri grunted, tugging uselessly at a shard that had lodged itself into one of the suit’s joints during her latest mission. “Who”—she panted, craning her neck upwards to squint at him—“needs breakfast?”

Peter sighed fondly. He gently pushed her to the side and knelt before the suit, wrapping one hand around the shard and effortlessly yanking it out in one swift pull. He dropped it onto the ground and turned to Shuri with one raised eyebrow. “ _You_ do,” he answered.

Shuri scowled at him. “I hate it when you remind me of how much stronger than me you are,” she complained.

He rose up to a stand and ushered her away from the suit. “Well,” he started, grinning at her out of the corner of his eye, “ _maybe_ if you ate your breakfast like a healthy teenager, you’d be strong enough to do that, too.”

She rolled her eyes, clearly unamused. “Shut up,” she grumbled, but notably did not protest as he tugged her closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You’re so annoying.”

Peter smiled smugly and hummed, not bothering to protest her description of him even as she betrayed her own statement by leaning her head against his chest.

“Annoying but _right_ ,” he countered.

Shuri snorted but let him have the last word, quietly enjoying his presence as they walked together towards the kitchen.

By the time they arrived, Ramonda had already set up the table, with eggs, bacon and French toast neatly spread out in the center. She looked up, took one look at the sight of her daughter tucked under Peter’s arm, and hid a pleased smile.

“I made your favorite,” she addressed her daughter, “so I better see you eat up.”

Shuri took a seat across her mother. “Bacon is everyone’s favorite, Umama,” she pointed out as Peter sat down beside her. “Peter can vouch for that.”

“You are not allowed to foist your portion on Peter,” Ramonda scolded. “I made enough for the both of you.” Shuri frowned, but Ramonda refused to be swayed, leveling a stern gaze at her daughter. “You need to take better care of yourself, Shuri.”

Shuri muttered incoherently under her breath.

Ramonda pointed a spoon at her. “Do I need to make Peter feed you?”

Peter burst out laughing while Shuri flushed and immediately helped herself to a generous helping of bacon and eggs, refusing to spare her mother another glance.

Ramonda winked at Peter, who merely shook his head in amusement and started on his own food.

* * *

As soon as Shuri finished breakfast, she pushed the plate away and leapt out of her seat. “I’m going back to the lab!” she told them both, beginning to back out of the kitchen.

“No, you’re not.” Ramonda frowned severely. “You’re in that lab every waking hour of every day, Shuri. If I let you, I bet you’d even sleep in that lab.” She graciously ignored the sheepish look that immediately graced her daughter’s face, letting her know that Shuri had definitely slept some nights in the lab, her orders be damned. “You need to take a break.”

“I don’t—”

“Yes, _you do,_ ” Ramonda cut her off firmly. “Spend the day outside for once. I’m sure Peter would love to take you to his gardens.”

Shuri stifled a sigh. “I need to get back to inventing, Umama,” she protested. “I still have at least a dozen weapons to upgrade—I can’t afford to _take a break._ ”

“Of course you can.” Her mother refused to give in. “Nothing’s going to go wrong if you take a day for yourself. That’s all I’m asking for. _One_ day,” Ramonda implored, her voice softening and growing tender with affection and benevolence. “You haven’t let yourself have a day off in _years_ , Shuri.”

“Because Wakanda needs me to ensure its safety, not slack off, Umama!” Shuri snapped, fists clenched. “I _need_ to improve our tech—to upgrade our defenses! If I don’t—”

“You are not solely responsible for the safety of our nation, sweetheart,” Ramonda interrupted gently, eyes strict but not unkind.

Shuri flinched. “That’s where you’re _wrong_ ,” she bit back. “I am the _Queen_ of Wakanda. My people are _depending_ on me—”

“But you’re not alone,” Ramonda reminded. “Let us help you shoulder the burden, Shuri. Stop putting everything on yourself. You have _so many_ _people_ willing to help you. At the very least, let your family in. I know for a fact that Peter would be more than glad to aid you if you weren’t so adamant in pushing him away all the time—”

Peter froze and slumped in his chair, resisting the urge to bury his face in his food. “ _Please_ don’t involve me in your argument,” he begged.

“Which is exactly why I need to be able to help all of you in turn,” Shuri pointed out, generously ignoring Peter, who sighed in relief.

“Our weapons and our security system are already the most advanced in the entire world, Shuri,” Ramonda said. “You _know_ that.”

“On _Earth_ , maybe, but not in the universe,” Shuri muttered angrily. “Thanos certainly proved that.”

Ramonda inhaled sharply at the mention of Thanos, finally taking a moment to drink in the sight of her daughter—to drink in the heavy bags under Shuri’s eyes, the sadness in the weary hunch of her shoulders, the exhaustion in every worry line on her forehead. “It’s been five years, Shuri,” she whispered, voice steeped in sadness. “You can’t keep punishing yourself for what that monster did. You can’t keep _blaming_ yourself.”

Shuri’s jaw shifted. “Yes, I can,” she argued. “It’s _my_ fault. I should have done better. I _could_ have, if only I hadn’t convinced myself of my own superiority and foolishly believed that nothing could penetrate my tech.”

“That’s not your fault,” Ramonda asserted. “It’s _not_.”

Shuri stared, faltering in the face of her mother’s unyielding certainty, before she shook her head. “Yes, it is,” she said quietly, “because it should be someone else sitting on that throne and _you know it_.”

“I’m not going to watch you work yourself to your _grave,_ ” Ramonda hissed, her voice harsh in a way that brooked no room for argument. “You’re taking the day off, and that’s _final_. You may be the queen, but I am _still_ your mother.”

Shuri fell silent, teeth gritted. Whenever her mother adopted that tone and expression, she knew that the battle had already been lost. She shook her head and groaned. “Fine,” she relented, resigned. “Come on, Peter, _we’re leaving_.”

Peter, blinking at the sound of his name, hastily stuffed the rest of his French toast in his mouth and jumped to his feet. He made quick work of the piece of bread, downed the rest of his water, and called out a hurried _thank you!_ to Ramonda before following Shuri out of the room.

He snuck a worried glance at Shuri, wincing when he saw the tension in his girlfriend’s shoulders. Her expression was pinched with anger, and Peter expelled a silent sigh.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Peter managed to stay silent, trying to give Shuri time to come to terms with her mother’s orders, until they exited the palace. “Let’s take one of the hoverboards,” he suggested, steering Shuri over towards the station at the side of the palace. He usually preferred to take his time and walk on foot to his large private garden near the outskirts of Wakanda, but he had a feeling that Shuri was in no mood to trek all the way there.

Shuri merely nodded in agreement, refusing to speak. Peter suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at her stubbornness.

“Morning, Okoye,” Peter greeted the female warrior as they passed her on their way into the station.

“Peter,” she nodded back in acknowledgement. “Taking the queen out on a date while the sun’s still up?”

Peter snorted, lips tugging into an amused grin. “Not quite,” he shook his head. “The Queen Mother has instructed me to keep Shuri out of her lab until further notice. We’re headed for the Orchid Garden.”

“I see.” Okoye remained expressionless, voice as stoic as ever, but when Peter turned away he glimpsed the slightest gleam of mischief in the upwards quirk of her lips. “Don’t let her get away from you,” the general of the Dora Milaje called out to their retreating backs.

In response, Peter tossed her a quick thumbs-up over his shoulder and hooked an arm around Shuri’s.

Shuri scoffed. “Am I stuck with you now?” she asked.

Peter hummed. “Yep,” he agreed. "Forever."

Shuri’s eye twitched. A part of her wanted to be annoyed at him, but a bigger part was flustered by his easy response. “Let’s just keep moving,” she finally found her voice, hiding a small smile behind a facade of impatience.

Peter hummed again, well aware of her true feelings. “Sure,” he said nonetheless, dragging her to the hoverboard section. There were no guards in sight inside the station—everything was monitored by APRIL, and they trusted the transparency of the Wakandan people anyway—so Peter and Shuri easily boarded one of the wider hoverboards together and inputted their intended destination.

The secondary entrance to the station slid open promptly and their hoverboard soared through without so much as a whirr. Peter squashed down a grin when Shuri stepped in closer and held tightly onto him even though they both knew that the pressurized forcefield around them and the sonic stabilizer in the hoverboard would keep her from falling off.

Within minutes, they arrived at the Orchid Garden, the hoverboard gently touching down and allowing them to step off. Peter locked down the hoverboard with a flick of his wrist and waved Shuri through to the garden entrance.

“Welcome, Your Majesty,” he said teasingly, offering her a hand. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” Shuri played along, elegantly placing her palm in his.

Peter guided her through the garden, pausing at certain corners to point out specific species of flowers. Shuri had visited the garden before and didn’t necessarily require the tour, but he knew that she wasn’t ready to talk yet.

Fifteen minutes into the tour, Peter slowed down when they came across a bench sitting beneath a willow tree. “Let’s rest our feet,” he suggested.

Shuri nodded, letting him pull her down onto the bench even though it was an obvious ploy to get her to talk. Peter rested his arm on the wooden frame behind her, occasionally letting his hand drift towards Shuri and play with her hair.

He leaned back and waited patiently, having known Shuri long enough to understand that she wouldn’t tell him anything unless she was ready to. Prying wouldn’t help either of them.

A few minutes later, Shuri sighed heavily and rested her head on his shoulder, gaze flitting up to take in the sky. “She doesn’t _get it,_ ” she said at last, but this time her voice was more tired than frustrated. The anger had drained out of her sometime during the tour, leaving only weariness.

“What doesn’t she get?” Peter indulged her.

Shuri swallowed. “That I can’t _help_ but blame myself.” Peter stiffened, hand stilling on her head, and Shuri carried on before she could lose her nerve, “I’ve always been praised for my intelligence, and maybe it makes me conceited, but as a result I’ve always personally believed in my intelligence, too. And then five years ago, everyone counted on me to detach Vision from the mind stone—and I – I _couldn’t_. I was too slow. For the first time in perhaps my entire life, my brain failed me.”

“You worked as quickly as you could have afforded to, Shuri,” he murmured. “And _I_ know that a part of _you_ knows that if you had tried to go any faster, you would have put Vision in danger.”

“I’m supposed to be a genius,” she whispered, blinking back tears, “and yet I couldn’t think up a way—any way at all—to speed up the process without risking Vision’s life. I let them all down, and it cost my brother his life. What kind of a genius does that make me?”

“A _human_ one,” Peter said gently. “You were on a time limit, and you did the absolute best you could. You were thinking of Vision—you were _worried_ about him, about _hurting_ him. That doesn’t make it your fault, Shuri.”

“It does to _me_ ,” she said.

Peter paused, reconsidered his method of approach, and made up his mind. He patted Shuri on the shoulder, wordlessly asking her to sit up, and shuffled to the edge of the bench. Quietly, he gripped Shuri by the shoulders, pliant and trusting, and lowered her head to his lap.

Shuri exhaled a slow, steady breath and peered up into her boyfriend’s eyes. Peter gave her a reassuring smile and returned one hand to her hair.

“I blame myself, too.” His admission was quiet and full of shame, nearly impossible to hear amid the morning breeze.

“Peter...” Shuri reached up and cupped his cheek in one hand.

Peter turned his face and kissed her palm softly. “Five years ago, I held Thanos’s gauntlet in my hands. I had _victory_ in my grasp. And it’s been five years, but I still keep thinking, I should have moved faster, tried _harder,_ been _better_. At least once a day I hate myself for not doing enough.”

Shuri shook her head staunchly. “I _know_ you, Peter. I know you must have done the best you could.”

Peter’s smile was sad. “Why can’t you be as kind to yourself? As _forgiving_ to yourself?”

Shuri blinked. “I...” She didn’t know what to say.

“I just wish you’d let yourself believe that you did all you could, too.” He kissed her palm again. “Because you know what? As much as I think I could have done more that day, I also _know_ that those thoughts aren’t helping anyone, especially not the people who vanished in the Snap.”

“Pete...” she trailed off helplessly.

“Your brother loved you, Shuri. He would have wanted you to forgive yourself.” He closed his eyes and saw Mr. Stark, resignation in his gaze as he crumbled to death. His last words had been: _Don’t you dare blame yourself for this, kid._ “If nothing else... we have to move forward for _their_ sake.” He wasn’t sure whether he was trying to convince her or himself.

“Or else their deaths would have been for nothing?” Shuri guessed.

Peter smiled wryly. “Something like that,” he agreed.

“Right.” Shuri let her gaze drift back to the sky. “Thanks, Peter. I really... I needed to hear that. I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he reassured. “I think we’re all a little bit of a mess on the inside.”

“Sounds about right,” Shuri smiled, basking in the moment for a second longer before lifting herself up to her feet. “Should we head back? I bet Umama’s already waiting to see if you managed to calm me down.”

“Let’s,” he agreed, following suit and standing. “I can’t wait to prove her right.”

Shuri just shook her head in disbelief. “Sometimes I think she loves you more than she loves me, her own daughter.”

“That’s just part of my charm,” he teased with an exaggerated wink, cheesy enough that Shuri burst out laughing. “Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite.”

“Oh my god,” she said through snickers, “please stop. You’re embarrassing.”

“ _Also_ part of my charm,” he chuckled along with her. He paused suddenly, an odd look crossing his face. “Actually, you know what? I think I’m going to stay for a little bit. You can go ahead of me.”

“We only took one hoverboard,” she reminded him.

“It’s fine,” he waved it off. “I’m used to the walk. Besides, you should talk to Umama privately before I get there.”

“You just want me to suck it up and apologize to her, don’t you?” Shuri accused, but she was smiling.

He smiled back. “Maybe,” he relented. Shuri exhaled forcefully, conflicted, and Peter added quietly, “You know she’s just looking out for you.”

Shuri was quiet.

Peter’s smile widened, already knowing what her answer would be. “Go on. I’ll catch up.”

“All right, all right, I’ll do it,” Shuri agreed begrudgingly, narrowing her eyes at him as she walked backwards in the direction of the entrance. “Happy now?”

“Perfectly!” he responded jovially, unfazed when she flipped him the middle finger. He watched contently as she turned the corner and disappeared from sight, and then waited a few more seconds to return to his original seat on the bench.

Without turning to look behind himself, he lowered his eyes and called out, “You can come out now, Captain.”

There was a hesitant pause before three familiar people surfaced from behind the shrubbery. Peter looked up to see Natasha Romanoff and a man he vaguely recognized as Scott Lang—one of the _Vanished_ , he realized—accompanying Captain Rogers.

At the surprised looks on all three of their faces, Peter snorted. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you?” he asked, and then immediately cut himself off, “No, never mind, don’t answer that. The real question is, how is Scott Lang here, _alive_?”

Scott Lang exchanged a nervous glance with his companions before he stepped forward and—

And told Peter that he’d been stuck in the Quantum Realm.

All at once, Peter knew, even before they said it, why they’d come.

Time travel.

“No,” he refused before Steve could finish explaining. “ _No._ ”

Scott spluttered in disbelief. “Look, I know it sounds impossible, but—”

“It doesn’t just _sound_ impossible,” Peter corrected. “It _is_ impossible. Listen, I could go on and on and tell you exactly why we can’t safely and reliably execute a—what did you call it?”

“A... time heist?” Scott offered meekly.

Peter almost laughed. He _would_ have, were it not for the sheer disappointment crushing him. He’d nearly let himself _believe_ they had a chance when he’d seen Scott, rumored to have disappeared in the Snap, but time travel wasn’t the chance he’d been looking for.

“Right,” he said doubtfully. “A _time heist._ Well, like I said, I could spend all day explaining the science—or rather, the _lack_ of science—behind it for you, but I won’t. All I’ll tell you is this: if we do this, if we try to use quantum fluctuations to travel to the past, we won’t make it back home.”

“I did,” Scott pointed out.

“You _accidentally_ survived,” Peter rebuffed immediately. “It’s a one-in-a-billion chance.”

“We have to at least _try,_ ” Steve pleaded. “The stones are in the past. We could go back, we could get them.”

“We can snap our own fingers,” Natasha continued where he left off. “We can bring everybody back.”

Peter hesitated for a second—a second too long.

“I know you’ve got a lot on the line,” Scott jumped in at the sight of Peter’s hesitation. “A girlfriend, a family. But I lost someone very important to me. A lot of people did.”

Peter’s eyes cut to Scott in a flash. “ _Don’t,_ ” he interjected sharply. “You have _no idea_ what I’ve lost. I lost _everything_ five years ago. I lost my aunt—my last living relative—my best friends, my mentor. I was left with nothing— _no one_. I had to rebuild my life completely.”

“If you lost all those people, then why aren’t you willing to help us?” Scott demanded. “Don’t you want them back?”

Peter laughed dryly, derisive and cutting. “ _Of course_ I do!” he snapped. “But time travel isn’t the way to get them back. It’s – it’s a pipe dream! There’s no guarantee that we won’t mess things up worse than _he_ did!”

Scott swallowed.

Natasha stepped forward and insisted, “But there’s no guarantee that we _will,_ either.” Her eyes were haunted, and Peter knew she was thinking of Clint—always. As she was now, Natasha was a far cry from the infallible Black Widow of five years ago. “Please, Peter. We have to make a stand.”

Peter shook his head. “I’m sorry, Nat, but we already _did._ ” He paused, locked eyes with her so there was no mistaking his meaning, and finished, “And we _lost._ ”

Scott recoiled as if he’d been physically struck. Steve frowned and looked away, no doubt revisiting his memory of the battle against Thanos.

Natasha refused to give up. She had always been relentless. “Things are different now,” she said quietly. “We have new information.”

“I just don’t see how—”

“Do you know why we came to you, Peter?” Natasha asked him suddenly. He broke off, words dying in his throat as he scrutinized her, but she didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s because traces of you are _all over_ the compound. It’s because I’ve heard too many tales of your intellect from Rhodey. It’s because Pepper resigned and named you CEO of her late fiancé's legacy when you were only nineteen.”

She paused, letting her words sink in for a moment before striking where it hurt: “It’s because they believe in you. _Tony_ believed in you.”

Peter didn’t dare to breathe, but he didn’t dare to say yes, either.

Natasha shook her head. There was no disappointment—only sadness—in her voice when she said, “I came to you because I believed, too.” Somehow the absence of disappointment only made him feel worse.

Natasha breathed in, out. “But if you won’t help us, Peter, we’ll find another way. We won’t _stop_ until we do. Whether that means recruiting Bruce, or some other genius, we’ll do _whatever it takes_ to bring them back—with or without your help.”

His voice caught in his throat, Peter couldn’t bring himself to do anything but watch as they walked away, back to the battered quinjet they’d arrived in.

* * *

“So, what did the good captain want?”

Peter froze, eyes flying to meet Shuri’s. She was sitting cross-legged on their bed, halfheartedly flicking through an old Avengers report as she kept one curious eye on him. “You knew he was there?”

She paused, taking a moment to minimize the holographic report so she could focus her undivided attention on him. “Of course I did,” she narrowed her eyes at him, severely unimpressed. “I may not have your sixth sense, but I’m not a fool. Now, what did he want?”

Peter stared at her in awe for a second longer before shaking his head. “I should have known I can’t keep anything from you.”

“Damn straight.”

Peter nodded, hesitating for a moment. As much as he wanted to dismiss Scott Lang’s ‘time heist’ scheme out of hand, for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to. It was the _hope_ , he realized—it was the hope he’d seen in Steve Rogers’ eyes and in Natasha Romanoff’s eyes, two Avengers who hadn’t stopped fighting but who _had_ stopped hoping, that kept him from shutting the door on their idea.

(It had been a long time since hope seemed real.)

But he didn’t want to get _Shuri’s_ hopes up until he was sure.

( _“I can’t help but blame myself.”_ )

It would _destroy_ her, to find a shred of hope and have it ripped away from her. He couldn’t risk that.

“It was nothing important,” he replied at last, thoughts faraway. “Don’t worry about it.”

Shuri eyed him skeptically. “Right,” she said doubtfully. “I know you’re lying, but I’m going to let it go for now. You’re lucky I love you.”

His eyes twinkled. “I must have been a saint in a previous life,” he said teasingly. She didn’t bother to respond to that, merely rolling her eyes at him, and his gaze softened. “I know I am,” he added, more earnestly, his cheeky smile turning honest and grateful. “I love you, too.”

* * *

In the end, he thought of the family he’d lost. He thought of Aunt May, who’d nearly burned down their kitchen on his birthday trying to bake him a cake, who’d regularly made him watch senseless rom-coms on their beaten couch, who hadn’t always understood his life or his hobbies but who’d _tried_ , who’d worked day and night to provide for him. Aunt May, who he would stop the whole world for.

He thought of Ned, his best friend who’d stuck by his side through thick and thin, who hadn’t hesitated to support him upon discovering that he moonlighted as a vigilante, who’d always been his greatest fan. He thought of MJ, who’d been quiet but understanding, who’d been afraid to trust yet still willing to give him a chance and offer him her friendship, who’d defended him to Flash and even to Peter himself.

He thought of Mr. Stark, his childhood hero. Uncle Ben always used to say _don’t meet your heroes_ , but he’d met Mr. Stark and he hadn’t been disappointed. Time and time again, Mr. Stark did the opposite of disappoint him; with every thoughtful check-in, with every ruffle of his hair, with every hug disguised by a playful “we’re not there yet,” and with every movie marathon and lab session and sleepover, Mr. Stark made him proud that he’d chosen Tony Stark—not Iron Man, but Tony Stark—to be his hero.

Mr. Stark was always saving him. Maybe it was his turn to save Mr. Stark.

He thought of Shuri, too, who’d met a broken shell of a hero and found it in herself to love him. Shuri, who even now was choosing to trust and have faith in him. Shuri, who made him feel powerful, fearless, _free_.

Shuri, who blamed herself.

_“I let them all down, and it cost my brother his life.”_

Shuri had looked towards him for an answer, broken and vulnerable as she was, and he’d told her to _move forward_. But what if they didn’t need to?

What if he could make things right? Erase the past, absolve his mistakes, and _fix_ their future?

What was he willing to sacrifice to make that future a reality?

( _Everything_.)

* * *

Peter waited until he was certain Shuri was asleep before he carefully slipped out of bed. He relied chiefly on his ability to latch onto the ceiling to make his way to the lab noiselessly.

As soon as APRIL let him in, he made his way over to a relatively empty worktable. He took quick stock of the items on the table and shrugged, sweeping all of the parts off to the side.

“APRIL?” he called out. “Pull up a hologram for me, would you? Start a new file. Let’s title it...”—he hesitated, only for a second—“Title it: _Hope_.”

APRIL obeyed without delay, a holographic screen immediately appearing in front of him. “What are you planning, Peter?” she asked conversationally, her soothing voice making Peter smile.

“I’m trying to build something,” he answered distractedly, mind running over all of the things Scott Lang had divulged about the Quantum Realm. “I don’t know if it’ll pan out yet, but we’ll see. First I need to draw up some blueprints.”

“You sound worried,” she observed.

Peter laughed, short and dry and full of nerves. “You’re right. I’m a little worried. Actually, that’s not true—I’m a lot worried,” he confessed. “I’m not sure how this will all work out. Even if I succeed, I might lose in the long run. There are at least a dozen risks in this play, but...”

“But?” APRIL prompted gently.

Peter smiled. “Some things are worth the risk, APRIL.”

The lab descended into silence except for an inconsistent buzzing in the background which he knew stemmed from APRIL's lack of understanding. Peter wasn’t surprised or concerned. He knew that, as advanced as APRIL was, she was still some ways away from being capable of true empathy.

* * *

**_October 9, 2023_ **

“Peter?” A yelp echoed in the lab, quickly followed by the sound of a heavy object crashing into the ground. “Peter! Are you in here?”

Peter groaned and lifted his head slowly, cracking one eye open. “In the back,” he grumbled in a faint and weary voice, but the approaching footsteps told him Shuri had heard him.

“Jesus, Peter,” Shuri sighed when she spotted him, half-slumped over the worktable. “You _slept_ in the lab? I thought I was the one with the bad work habits. When did you become me, huh?”

Peter slammed his eye shut again and dropped his head back onto the table. “Give me a moment,” he mumbled tiredly.

Shuri exhaled heavily through her nose and wheeled over a chair, plopping down near Peter. She reached over and squeezed his shoulders lightly in a halfhearted massage.

Her nose wrinkled immediately. “God, you’re tense. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

He sighed and pushed himself upright. “I don’t know,” he admitted. He tried to always be honest with her, except for when it would do more harm than good. “More than, maybe.”

“More than?” Shuri repeated, surprised. “I think I’m going to need you to elaborate, Pete, because this doesn’t really look like you’re ‘more than okay’.”

Peter laughed breathlessly. “Yeah, I know what it looks like. But I’m actually feeling... kind of optimistic, I think. Hold on, let me just show you,” he said. Shuri raised an eyebrow, but dutifully stayed quiet while Peter waved vaguely in the air. “APRIL? Bring up _Hope_ for me, please.”

“'Hope'?” Shuri echoed. “Peter, what...?”

She trailed off, stunned into silence, when the blueprints for the Time Travel GPS popped up.

Peter swallowed. There was a lot more work to be done—the GPS still had a few kinks he needed to work out, but... Peter eyed the bold _78.2% successful_ glaring back at him from the corner of the file.

It was a start, at least.

“Peter, what _is_ this?” Shuri breathed, eyes darting frantically between the blueprints and Peter. Her mind was working a mile a minute, the gears in her brain shifting, running—

“I think you already know what it is,” Peter replied. She glared at him, and he sighed and humored her, “You were right, yesterday. I was lying about Steve. He... he came here to propose a solution.”

“Time travel,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Yes, time travel. I didn’t want to tell you yesterday because I didn’t think it was feasible at first and I didn’t want to get your hopes up over nothing—I mean, this isn’t the first time we’ve thought of the possibility, after all. But we always came to the conclusion that time travel is just not realistic.”

“Are you saying we were wrong?” Shuri’s eyebrows furrowed.

Peter turned back to the file. “I don’t know for sure yet,” he admitted. “It still seems a little bit like a fantasy, but—Steve wasn’t the only one who came yesterday. He brought Scott Lang with him.”

“Scott Lang? Sounds familiar,” she muttered. “Where have I heard his name before?”

“He was in FRIDAY’s reports five years ago,” Peter answered. “As one of the Vanished.”

Shuri stiffened. “ _How_?” she demanded.

“Apparently, he never Vanished at all. He's been stuck in the Quantum Realm this entire time. What was five years for us...”

“...was much less for him,” Shuri finished. Her hands were shaking with both fear and exhilaration. “You really think—?”

“It’s a long shot,” Peter interrupted, voice cautioning. “The device still has a ways to go before it's functional, and even after it’s been perfected—we have no idea how this will all play out.”

“Long shot or not,” Shuri murmured, “it’s the best chance we’ve had in a long time.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly. He descended into silence for a while, watching as Shuri processed the situation. He smiled slightly at the mixture of awe and tentative hope that washed over her.

“Hey,” he drew her out of her thoughts, resting a hand on her arm. She turned to look at him, wide-eyed.

His smile widened. “So, what do you say? Are you ready to help me invent time travel and save the universe?”

She paused, leaned back in her chair and eyed the blueprints for a lingering moment. When she looked back at him, she was smiling, too.

“ _Hell_ , yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. If you have the time, I’d very much appreciate any kudos or comments, so please let me know if you’d be interested in reading more of this :)


	2. The Queen Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Shuri go about inventing time travel. Later, Peter has a heart-to-heart with the Queen Mother and comes to a startling realization.

**Earth-199999: _October 9, 2023_**

_Kingdom of Wakanda, East Africa_

By the time noon passed and the Queen Mother herself ventured into their lab to call them out for lunch, their success rate had crept up to _86.54%._

Ramonda took one look at them spread throughout the lab, her daughter lying sprawled out on the floor and Peter hanging upside down on the chair, and sighed heavily. “What are you two up to now?” she asked with the voice of a woman who’d seen too much mischief in one lifetime.

“The usual,” Shuri said through a yawn. “Saving the world and all that.”

Ramonda arched an eyebrow. When Peter didn’t contradict Shuri, she gave in and said, “All right, fine. I’ll have your food delivered to you guys. Make sure to eat up—you’ll need the energy if you want to ‘save the world and all that.’”

“Got it,” Peter agreed distractedly. “We’ll do that.”

Ramonda rolled her eyes and left the way she came from. She’d seen the look in her daughter’s eyes—Shuri had stumbled across a new puzzle to be solved. And if she knew her daughter—which she _did_ —then she had no doubt that Shuri wouldn’t be able to rest until she’d figured out this latest problem.

 _Especially_ if Peter was encouraging her.

* * *

“I don’t understand where we’re going wrong,” Shuri muttered under her breath hours later, their finished lunches pushed to the side. Despite their earlier successes, they seemed to have stagnated, settling at an even _88% successful._

It was close, but not close enough.

Peter groaned from where he was still draped over the chair, head hung in defeat.

“We’ve figured most of it out," Shuri continued, "but we just can’t seem to make the last leap.”

Peter mumbled incoherently in agreement.

“Maybe we need to take a break,” Shuri suggested tentatively. “It pains me to say this, but it might benefit us to leave our work for a while and come back to it with fresh eyes.”

Peter sighed, reluctant, but ultimately he knew she was right. Being stubborn wouldn’t do anyone any good, especially considering the stakes on this.

“Yeah,” he agreed sullenly. “I’ll bring the plates up to the kitchen. Why don’t we meet back in the lab in an hour or two?”

“Thanks,” Shuri said absentmindedly, watching Peter scoop up their dirty dishes and walk away. She stayed where she laid for a moment or two longer, before she shook her head to snap herself out of her stupor.

With a tired sigh, she trudged out of the lab and headed outside to visit the farms.

* * *

Peter was in the middle of rinsing the plates, mind still fixated on the puzzle that was time travel, when Ramonda’s voice startled him out of his thoughts: “Did my lazy daughter force you to do her dishes for her?”

Peter bit back a curse, relatively certain that the only reason he hadn’t dropped and broken a plate was his stickiness. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” he joked, switching off the tap and carefully sliding the plates and cutlery into the dryer. Once the dishes were safely secured, he spun around and shot Ramonda a small smile.

Ramonda smiled back. “Is it working?” she teased.

“A little bit,” he laughed. A second later, his mood sobered. “Shuri and I both need a break from tinkering. She’s clearing her head for a while. I needed to do the same, so I figured I might as well do the dishes.”

“What are you two really working on?” Ramonda asked, growing worried. She’d never heard either Peter or Shuri admit to ‘needing a break’ before, not when it came to something they were working on together. She hadn’t thought it was possible.

Peter bit his lip. “Something important,” he let on. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to tell her; if they failed, if _he_ failed, then Ramonda would be another person he’d disappointed. He didn’t want to let her down, too.

But Ramonda had become such an important person in his life over the last five years. She’d become someone he trusted, someone he _needed_.

She’d become something of a mother figure to him since he’d started dating Shuri and she’d unhesitatingly taken him in. She was his go-to source of advice nowadays; he wanted to be able to confide in her about this, too.

(Ramonda always knew what to say.)

“Shuri wasn’t exaggerating when she said we were trying to save the world,” he said at last, his voice soft and uncertain, timid. “It’s been five years, but... I can’t move on, Umama. I can’t forget. So when Steve Rogers came knocking on my door yesterday, bearing a ghost from the past and the key to a possible solution, I – I said no at first, because it seemed unlikely and I wasn’t ready to break my own heart all over again. But after he left, I couldn’t stop _thinking_ about it.”

Ramonda’s expression was kind, free of judgement and criticism. It gave him the courage to continue speaking.

“I kept wondering, what if I’d made a mistake, turning him away? What if it wasn’t as unlikely as I first assumed? I couldn’t make up my mind.”

“You seem to have made up your mind now,” she said quietly, pulling out a chair and taking a seat. After a second, she pulled out another chair and patted the seat cushion in a wordless invitation for Peter to come join her. She had a feeling this wouldn’t be an easy conversation.

Peter swallowed and sat down, turning to face her anxiously. “I have,” he confirmed. “I just... I have to at least _try._ If there’s a chance—even a slim one—I knew I’d never be able to forgive myself if I didn’t try.”

“I don’t know what you’re attempting, but for what it’s worth, Peter, if there’s anyone who can make the impossible possible, it’s you,” she said, smiling openly.

Peter blinked rapidly. “A lot,” he said, his voice hoarse. “That’s – that’s worth a lot, especially coming from you.”

“Can I ask what solution Captain Rogers proposed?”

Peter stared off into the distance, partly because he didn’t want to see her reaction to his next words, and partly because he couldn’t _bear_ to. “Time travel,” he whispered. “He wants to – to use time travel to bring back everyone we lost to Thanos.”

He couldn’t see her face, but he heard the sharp gasp coming from her. “And – and you and Shuri have been working on it? Time travel?” A hesitant pause, and then—

“After what you two have managed to accomplish so far, do you... do you think it’s truly possible?” Ramonda asked, and she sounded – _afraid._ She sounded _fragile_ , like Peter had the power to make or break her with a single word.

Sitting across her, one of the most powerful women in the world, and watching her struggle not to break down right in front of him, Peter realized—with terrifying clarity—that it didn’t _matter_ what he thought. It didn’t matter because he would give it his all anyway; it didn’t matter because he had people who were _counting_ on him to do _everything_ he could.

“Yeah,” he said instead, because it was easier to lie and make her smile than to explain the complicated truth. “I think—I _believe—_ Shuri and I really _can_ finish what we started and invent time travel, as long as we don’t give up.” He paused. He didn’t want to shatter her hopes, but...

But she deserved to know the road that loomed ahead of them.

“The difficult part,” he started, “comes after.”

“What do you mean?”

“Messing with time is a dangerous thing to do,” Peter muttered. “We can’t be sure we’ll succeed even _if_ the technical aspect of time travel works out. Or, worse yet, we can’t be sure that we won’t make things worse.”

“Peter,”—Ramonda’s voice was wrecked—“I see where you’re coming from, I _do,_ but...”

( _Don’t you dare blame yourself for this, kid._ )

( _I don’t... I don’t know what’s happening, Petey, I’m so confused. Everything is in chaos. I just had a patient crumble to ash on the operating table. The head surgeon, too, oh god. I just... if this is the end—I need to tell you I larb you, Pete. Never forget that. I love you so, so much._

_You’re – you’re my kid, and I—_

Beep.)

( _Ms. Potts, I... I’m sorry. I lost Mr. Stark. I lost him. He’s gone—_

Peter would never forget the way Pepper Potts’s face crumpled with tears. She caved in on herself and broke down crying, Happy sweeping in and folding her into a crushing hug through his own misery.)

( _Hi, Mrs. Leeds. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I just needed to ask—_

 _He’s gone, Peter. Ned’s gone. I’m sorry._ )

(Nobody told him MJ vanished. Her entire family had disappeared with her.)

“How can things be _worse_ than this?” Ramonda whispered.

Peter slumped back in his seat, speechless. He’d been fretting for so long, racking his brain for all the ways they could ruin things more than even Thanos did—he’d worried that if things went awry, they could lose even the few things they’d gained since the war.

But in a way, Ramonda had a point. After everything he’d already lost, everything _they’d_ lost, maybe Ramonda was _right_ : they were already at rock bottom.

Peter swallowed. “You’re right,” he admitted. It was impossible to forget the lives they’d led before. “I – you’re completely right. I need to...” He shook his head, leaping up to his feet and crossing the room in a few swift strides. “I need to get back to the lab.”

“Peter!” Ramonda called out.

He stilled, looked back.

She was smiling at him, an expression forged from the beginnings of a tentative hope. “Good luck.”

He hesitated.

_“Don’t you dare blame yourself for this, kid.”_

He’d lost Mr. Stark.

Ramonda had lost _her son._ She’d had to bury him, had to _live without him_ for five horrible years, and yet still she was willing to put her faith in Peter and trust that he would _fix_ their broken reality.

She was willing to take a chance. And at the end of the day, so was he.

He smiled back. “I'm sure I'll need it," he said. _Thank you for believing in me,_ he didn't say.

( _“A wife who loses a husband is called a widow. A husband who loses a wife is called a widower. A child who loses his parents is called an orphan. There is no word for a parent who loses a child. That’s how fucking awful the loss is.”_ )

* * *

When Shuri finally re-entered the lab at the two-hour mark, the first thing she saw was Peter, staring up at the hologram with a dazed expression.

Shuri groaned. “Peter!” she admonished. “What happened to _taking a break_?”

He didn’t reply.

Shuri’s eye twitched. “I managed to drag myself out of the lab for two whole hours because I thought we’d _agreed_ on giving our minds a rest,” she reminded him sharply. “And yet you’re _still here._ Do I need to remind you what a ‘break’ means?”

“No, I...” Peter faltered, trailing off into a stunned silence, and Shuri finally snapped out of her annoyance to notice that the look in his eyes was less confused, and more awed.

“Peter?” she raised an eyebrow, walking around the table to come to a stop behind him. She rested her hands on his shoulders and leaned back, peering up at the hologram. “What’s— oh, my _god._ ”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, breathless in a _good_ way.

“Is that...” Shuri stared. “ _99.8% successful_?” she read aloud. “Holy shit, Peter, you did it. _You did it._ ”

Peter hesitated. He still couldn’t be certain that things would go smoothly—there were over a million doubts running through his mind, but...

_How can things be worse than this?_

“Yeah,” he whispered, again. “Yeah, I did.”

Shuri hugged him close, beaming into his hair, and for a moment—only a moment—Peter let himself forget all of his concerns and just _breathe._

For a moment, faced with Shuri’s _hopeful_ smile, Peter let go. Because in this moment, with Shuri chattering excitedly into his ear, _lively_ in a way she hadn’t been in five years, Peter knew he was doing the right thing.

He looked down at the framed picture of himself and Mr. Stark lying face-up on the worktable, mutual content grins on their faces and an upside-down certificate held between them, and smiled, too.

( _Don’t you dare blame yourself for this, kid—_ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter was a little short, but I wanted to set the scene for the next few events. Anyway, thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought :)


	3. Assembling the Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Shuri meet up with the rest of the Avengers, time travel device in hand. They work a few details out. 
> 
> Peter tries (and fails) not to freak out.

**Earth-199999: _October 10, 2023_**

_New Avengers Facility, New York_

The next day, armed with a fully-functional Time Travel GPS and a newly improved shield for the good captain himself, Peter and Shuri boarded a quinjet and flew to the Avengers’ compound.

As soon as they landed, Peter hopped off the quinjet and headed towards Steve, standing alone outside the compound. “Well, don’t you look awfully cheerful,” he quipped sarcastically as he neared the soldier. “Feeling stuck yet?”

Steve turned to him with a wry smile. “Please tell me you came as reinforcement.”

“Let me guess,”—Peter rolled his eyes—“someone turned into a baby.”

Steve nodded helplessly.

Peter snorted. “Luckily for you, I have just what you need.” He tossed Steve the working GPS, waited for Shuri to come to a stop beside him and hand him the shield, and then promptly held it out for Steve’s inspection. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Steve _stared_.

“He means, we’re here to save your collective asses,” Shuri added with a smirk. “Speaking of ‘collective’, we should start rounding up the others. We’ve got Clint Barton’s coordinates loaded up on the quinjet’s navigation system. Where’s everyone else?”

* * *

It turned out that Steve had already gathered Bruce, Rhodey, Nebula and Rocket together along with Natasha and Scott Lang.

With Natasha flying off to recruit Clint, that only left Thor and Carol in the wind. Bruce gulped, stepped forward, and volunteered to call in Thor with Rocket while everyone else started brainstorming ideas.

“Good luck.” Shuri waved at them. “We’re going to need everyone on deck for this.”

“Yeah,” Bruce agreed distractedly as he boarded Rocket’s spaceship, ignoring Rocket’s holler of _hey, watch your step, man! I just got this upgraded, okay?_ “We’ll bring Thor back.”

Shuri nodded, staying outside to watch them depart. When she walked back into the compound, Peter flashed her a grim, determined smile.

“I left a message for Danvers,” he informed her. “I’m not sure when she’ll receive it, or if we’ll even need her, but it never hurts to be prepared—and, well, if we want to be prepared then the strongest superhero alive is definitely a useful person to have at our back.”

“Good call,” Shuri agreed. “Where are we at now?”

“We’ve pinpointed the general locations of the time, mind and space stones so far. We’re waiting for everyone else to arrive,” Steve reported. “We’re hoping Thor will be able to shed some light on the whereabouts of the reality stone.”

“As for the other two...” Natasha started.

“Rocket has more information on the power stone than I do, but I might be able to help with the soul stone,” Nebula spoke up.

Peter and Shuri exchanged a glance before Shuri nodded. “Tell us everything you know.”

* * *

Eventually, the elusive Clint Barton and Thor Odinson were returned to the compound with Natasha, Bruce and Rocket at the lead. Peter and Shuri called them over, having set up the device for a test-run.

One test-run later, Clint was heaving on the floor, a baseball glove clutched desperately to his chest. He looked up at them, tears and _awe_ in his eyes, and nodded.

Natasha was instantly at his side, kneeling and rubbing his back comfortingly. “You’re okay,” she soothed. “We’re here.”

“I could hear her voice,” he said to Natasha, breathless. “I heard Lila _._ ”

Natasha’s breath hitched.

Clint didn’t have to elaborate for the rest of them. They knew, at once, what that meant.

The Time Travel GPS _worked._

Hopes reaffirmed, Peter choked out a hysterical laugh and pulled Shuri into a one-armed hug. _Aunt May,_ he thought, _Mr. Stark. We’re going to bring you back._

_Just you wait._

* * *

Test-run over and done with, they all regrouped in the common room.

Putting their heads together, they managed to locate the remaining stones and work out a timeline. Once they were done pinpointing the most opportune location of each infinity stone, they assigned tasks:

Thor, accompanied by Rocket (much to the latter’s apparent chagrin), would be responsible for procuring the reality stone from his home planet. Thor frowned, deep and conflicted, but did not complain. 

( _"_ _He lost everything, you know,"_ Bruce had told Peter, long ago. The explanation had come shortly after Peter returned to Earth, on the brink of death, having drifted aimlessly through space for weeks on end with depleting resources. He remembered spotting Thor, sitting quietly off to himself, head bowed under the weight of their failure. When he'd quietly asked Bruce if Thor was okay—barely managing to contain his boundless excitement, because that was _Dr._ _Bruce Banner,_ legendary scientist, he was talking to—Bruce had looked unfathomably sad. _"_ _He'd just lost his planet—his home—too, to a different enemy, mere moments before we encountered Thanos. As if that wasn't enough, Thanos took..._ everything _from him. Thor had to watch his brother die, strangled to death at the Mad Titan's hand. His last living family member."_

At Bruce's solemn pronouncement, Peter's excitement at finally meeting his greatest heroes had quickly died down. They were all in mourning, after all. And losing the last of your family? That, Peter could relate to.)

( _But Loki didn't die in the Snap. He won't be able to come back,_ Peter realized now, his heart sinking to his feet. _No matter how this plays out, Thor won't get his brother back._ He glanced back at Thor, who was still frowning, and fought the urge to stalk over and engulf Thor in a crushing hug. Thor deserved _better_. 

_But we rarely get what we deserve in life, and there won't be any gleeful family reunions in Thor's future,_ Peter thought with second-hand despair. _If Thor stumbles across Loki in the past... it won't be with the hope that he'll get to have Loki in his life again. It'll be as a final goodbye._ )

Nebula and Rhodey formed another pair; they would head to Morag to do a little thieving and steal the power stone from the older Peter—Nebula was, evidently, _thrilled_ by this; she grinned and said, barely audible, “I can’t wait to give Quill a taste of his own medicine. He was an outlaw once, you know.”

Meanwhile, Natasha and Clint were entrusted with the safe retrieval of the soul stone. Destination: Vormir. Of everyone, they were perhaps the most excited about the process of he time heist itself, practically bouncing with anticipation. Well, _Clint_ was bouncing, at least. Natasha would never be caught dead bouncing giddily. Still, if one looked closely enough—and _Peter_ did—they would be able to see the faintest hint of a smile curling Natasha’s lips. As dangerous as Vormir was according to Nebula’s warnings, Clint and Natasha were almost _eager_ to go; to them, this was just another mission, and as long as they were partnered together, they were satisfied.

(Natasha would never admit it _aloud,_ of course, but Clint was her best friend. They were thick as thieves, in every sense of the saying. They had each other’s backs.)

In fact, when they heard their task, the two immediately shared a conspiratorial smirk and a fist-bump. “What do you think, Nat?” Clint nudged her, and Peter saw his world-weary look soften slightly for the first time since he’d arrived, hair half-shaved and eyes haunted. “Like old times?”

Peter clearly wasn’t the only one to notice Clint’s lightened demeanor, because Natasha smiled softly back at him, _relief_ swarming in her eyes. “Just like old times,” she agreed, voice a mixture of fond and indulgent in the way she only ever was with Clint.

Peter thought back to Natasha’s intermittent voicemails over the last five years, interspersed over a few months at a time and ranging in topics from _what if I’m too late, what if he gave up, what if he’s already dead_ to _there was another incident on the news: twelve dead, all with bounties on their head for the murder of a sixteen year old girl. I saw her obituary—she looked like Lila Barton would today, if Lila had been given the chance to grow up. It... it has to be him._

Peter shook his head and looked away. Natasha had finally found her best friend after five years of missing him, of looking for him in every nook and cranny of New York and then the rest of the states. He was happy for her, he _was,_ but at the same time… it was hard not to envy her for it.

(He’d get to see Ned again. He _would_. And the second he did, he’d wrap Ned up in a hug and never let go.)

(He’d see all of them again.)

“That just leaves the space, time and mind stones for the rest of us, then,” Steve concluded, and Peter shoved the memory of Ned’s ear-splitting grin into a locked vault. This wasn’t the time. “There’s five of us remaining—Peter, Bruce, Shuri and Scott, you guys are coming with me to New York. Right after Loki invades in 2012.”

“What’s the plan, Cap?” Peter asked seriously.

Steve gave them all an appraising look. “Bruce,” he decided, “you’re the calmest and most rational of all of us. You’ll speak with the wizard and try to persuade him into giving up the time stone willingly—hopefully, you’ll be able to get it without resorting to violence.”

Bruce looked strained. _You’re the calmest and most rational of all of us,_ Steve had said—and he’d been right. But it was only true because Bruce had _forced_ himself to learn how to be calm, at all times; he’d _needed_ to be calm, lest he wanted to turn into a giant rage monster and obliterate everyone around him. He’d since fixed that issue, of course, melding his two personalities into one comfortable compromise, but he hadn’t forgotten how much he’d struggled with self-control. He hadn’t forgotten the conflict that had plagued him for a large part of his life.

“Actually,” Peter interjected, catching the unease in Bruce’s expression, “they don’t answer to ‘wizards’ anymore. Apparently, the comparison to fake magicians of legends and fairy tales is a major insult. Who would’ve guessed, right? Anyway, they prefer to go by _Masters of the Mystic Arts_ , or so Wong tells me.”

Bruce smiled gratefully at Peter for the distraction, his discomfort fading by the second. Peter only winked at him. Having regained his composure during Peter’s nonsense blabbering—which nearly everyone had learned to tune out by now, save perhaps Lang going by the confusion on his face—Bruce turned to Steve and cleared his throat, agreeing, “I’ll reason with him.”

(Peter snorted. “Not to be a killjoy, but the guy I met was _way_ beyond reasoning when it came to that stone,” he muttered under his breath. Everyone else ignored him.)

“At the same time,” Steve continued, expertly side-stepping and sweeping a rug over Peter’s commentary, “Peter, Shuri, Scott and I will secure the space and mind stones. We’ll have to extract both before the Avengers from 2012 can hand them over to SHIELD—that would be _disastrous_ for obvious reasons.”

Scott nodded enthusiastically, eager to prove himself. “I won’t let you down, Cap,” he swore, lacking the bitterness and cynicism of the other heroes. He might not have had to live five years without Hope—not like the rest of them had lived five years without the people they loved—but he could imagine their pain, and right now, it was enough.

“I’m sure you won’t,” Steve said with a smile. Scott beamed back at him, and Steve turned to Peter and Shuri. “What about you two? You guys got it?”

Shuri hesitated. She understood what had to be done, but… “Is this really the only plan you could come up with?” she bit out protectively, chancing a glance at her boyfriend. Peter was staring at Steve shell-shocked, face pale and drawn with fear. “Shoving Peter _directly_ into the path of Tony Stark? Have you already forgotten that Peter had to _watch him die_?”

Peter stumbled backwards as if struck, and Shuri shot him an apologetic look. He didn’t even notice, too caught up in the echo of _Peter had to watch him die._

 _I’ve had to watch him die a thousand times in the last five years,_ Peter thought, numbly. _I’ve watched him die again and again and again. And each time, there’s nothing I can do. Each time, I can’t save him._

What good was it, being Spider-Man, when he couldn’t even save the people he cared about? The people he _loved_? What good was it, if he just froze up _uselessly_ when he was needed?

What good was _he_?

( _Don’t do this to yourself, kid,_ he heard Mr. Stark’s voice in the back of his head, an illusion of the man he’d tried to save. _Don’t do this._

Peter gritted his teeth. _I deserve this,_ he thought. Because he did. No matter what anyone else said, no matter what anyone else tried to convince him of, he _did_ deserve it. He deserved it because Mr. Stark had trusted him, had counted on him, had stared at him with hope burning brightly in his eyes and said _you’re an Avenger now, kid_ with all the solemnity in the world, as if he was knighting Peter. Mr. Stark had put his faith in Peter, and Peter had _failed_ him so utterly and completely.

Peter had failed, and it was Mr. Stark that paid the price for it. It was Mr. Stark that _died_ because of it.

 _I deserve this,_ he told himself again.

 _No, you don’t,_ that voice inside his head that sounded suspiciously like Tony Stark on three hours of sleep, like Aunt May when she caught him blaming himself for Uncle Ben’s death, like Shuri when she found him huddled into a ball in one corner of the lab, argued. It sounded like solace. _Don’t you dare blame yourself for this, kid._

 _Yes, I do._ He deserved to be punished. Maybe Spider-Man believed in second chances, maybe Spider-Man _gave out_ second chances, but Peter Parker didn’t deserve a second chance.

 _Except._ Except, except, except.

He’d been given one anyway. He _had_ a second chance in his grasp, and he’d never forgive himself if he let the universe down a second time because he was too much of a coward to face the hero he’d already let down once before.

He had to do it.)

Steve grimaced, his face settling into a horrified expression. Admittedly, he hadn’t thought of that, too blinded by the thought of getting his friends back to realize how this would affect Peter. It brought him immeasurable shame, now, to recognize what he'd done. He was supposed to be Captain America—he was supposed to embody morality and righteousness. Where was his virtue now? “Shuri—”

“Peter _still_ hasn’t gotten over his death, Cap,” Shuri snapped, and her voice was indignant yet _sad_ at the same time. _Regretful,_ Steve realized. “Surely, there has to be something else Peter can do. A job that doesn’t put him face-to-face with the mentor he lost. Because I know _I_ sure as hell wouldn’t be able to handle seeing my brother in the past, not when—” she faltered, stumbling to an abrupt halt as she realized what she’d been about to say: _not when our success isn’t certain yet._ She swallowed down the doubts—saying it would make it _real_ —and finished, instead, “Not when he hasn’t become the brother I remember yet.”

Steve nodded, chastised. “You’re right,” he sighed. “Peter, what do you want to—”

“I’ll do it,” Peter interrupted, stopping Steve in his tracks. Behind his back, out of sight from everyone else, his hands were clenched into fists, fingernails digging so deep into his skin that his palm bled. “It’s fine. I can take it. I can face Mr. Stark. I _can_.” _I have to._

He was Spider-Man, after all. He was _an Avenger, now._ A hero. He couldn’t freeze up again.

Steve frowned. “But you don’t _have_ to,” he insisted. “I shouldn’t have assigned you to the Battle of New York, I—”

“I can do it,” Peter repeated, _pleaded_.

“Peter…” Shuri whispered.

Peter bit his lip and gave her a small, firm nod. “It’s okay, Shuri,” he reassured, but the quiver in his voice belied his words. He spoke of conviction, but none of that selfsame conviction was reflected in his appearance. “I’ll be okay. It’s been five years.”

 _Yeah,_ Shuri thought. _Five years, and I haven’t gotten over my brother’s death. ‘Five years’ doesn’t mean you’re obligated to be fine about it. None of us have moved on. But…_

“Are you sure?” she asked, in lieu of protesting further. Peter, after all, was the strongest person she knew. If anyone could handle facing their long-lost mentor with elegance, it was Peter Parker. _And if he can’t, I’ll be there to hold him up above the water. I won’t let him fall._

“I’m sure,” he insisted firmly. He focused on Steve Rogers—on _Captain America,_ who he’d once looked up to as an idol before he’d finally met him and realized he was just as flawed and _human_ as the rest of them. After that, Peter had stopped idolizing him and started seeing him as a teammate, a _friend._ “Let me do it, Cap,” he implored.

Peter wasn’t surprised when Steve gave in. As much as he was sure Steve was worried about him, he was even _more_ sure that Steve wanted his friends back most of all. Steve had been forced to live without Bucky Barnes once before, after all. It was clear to anyone that he wasn't willing to go through that again, for any longer.

They all had their priorities. Bucky was Steve’s.

“Fine,” Steve allowed. “But you need to stick to the plan, got it? No surprises.”

“Surprises? Me?” Peter smiled cheekily, jumping at the opportunity to bring them all back to more lighthearted topics. “Never.”

Steve just snorted disbelievingly and pointed an accusing finger at him. “I _know_ you, Queens,” he simply said, which was code for: _you’re a rebellious little shit._ Which, okay, _fair._

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, fine. I get it. No surprises. I swear.” When Steve looked unconvinced, Peter held up three fingers and reaffirmed, “Relax, I won’t cause you any problems. Scout’s honor.”

“Nice try. I know you were never a boy scout,” Steve pointed out, deadpan.

“ _Anyhoo_!” Peter swiftly changed subject, ignoring Steve’s indignant spluttering as he moved on. “We all have our assignments. We all know what we have to do, and we all know the stakes,” Peter carried on, rubbing his hands together, and Steve let it go as the team dutifully gathered into a loose huddle. “We have one chance to make this work. _One._ Let’s make it count.”

“We will,” Steve said, confidently. It was all he said—all he _had_ to say—but Peter heard the unspoken words nonetheless: _We have to._

Peter caught Steve’s eye amidst the rest of the team and nodded, once, in acknowledgement. They had too much on the line to fail now. The universe was counting on them.

* * *

“Peter,”—Natasha’s quiet voice drew his attention away from Shuri and Bruce as they prepped the time travel device, and he glanced back to find her approaching him with swift, purposeful steps—“I just wanted to say…” she started, her voice sinfully rich. (Like the blood she’d worked so hard to scrub off her ledger over all these years, Peter couldn’t help but think.) “ _Thank you._ For taking a chance. For doing all of this.”

There was something heart-stopping, Peter mused, about being thanked by a former master assassin. He’d never once doubted, of course, that the Snap took from _everyone_ —that the Snap stopped everyone’s world. But it was different, witnessing Natasha’s gratitude. She was _Natasha Romanoff,_ after all; the infamous Black Widow, peerless and unparalleled in her line of work.

Untouchable.

He’d never heard her say “thank you” before.

(He didn’t want to hear it now, not for this.)

“Don’t mention it,” he brushed off with a small but genuine smile. He hesitated, considered her carefully, and then smiled wider. “You were right. We have to make a stand.”

Quietly, beautifully, Natasha Romanoff _smiled_ at him. Her smile was breathtaking and heartbreaking all at once—her smile, Peter thought, marked her expression like a jagged scar, hopeful but _cautious,_ wary.

Peter swallowed a flare of pity (he knew Natasha Romanoff would _balk_ at the thought of _anyone_ pitying her) and adamantly did not ask which wound left it behind.

* * *

Peter jumped in surprise, and Natasha silently slunk off, when Bruce announced that they were ready. He calmed himself down – _breathe in, breathe out, you’ve got this, this is going to work –_ and rejoined the rest of his teammates.

He was numb as he listened to Steve take center-stage and deliver one of his infamous pep-talks with an ease Peter could only dream of possessing. Shuri came up beside him, eyes hard and determined, and Peter felt the nerves stirring in his gut settle slightly.

“You ready?” Shuri whispered out of the corner of her mouth, even as her eyes never left Steve.

Peter managed a faint smile for her. _Not in the slightest,_ he thought privately to himself. And then, because he knew Shuri would get it—get _him_ —he shook his head and repeated the same thing aloud.

Shuri only nodded in understanding, demeanor void of any judgement. “Me, too,” she whispered, and when Peter looked at her closer—really _looked_ at her—he could see a hint of trepidation beneath the layer of confidence. Before he could say anything, Shuri slipped her hand into his and squeezed tightly. “But it’ll be fine, right? We’re in this together.”

The truth was, Peter had no idea if it _would_ be fine. Who could tell if this would all work out for the better? But he thought of Mr. Stark’s eyes locked on his as he faded away into nothing, and of Shuri’s desperation and guilt, and he pushed away the unsettling uncertainty. Shuri needed him to be _strong_ —they all did.

“Of course,” he said, squeezing back. And despite his residual fear, he found that he meant it. “ _Together_. I’ve got your back.” There was no one else he’d rather traverse the space-time continuum with.

“Likewise,” she murmured, and the _promise_ in her voice rang loud and clear in Peter’s ears, beyond even Steve’s reassurances a few feet away.

Eventually, Steve’s voice died down as his motivational speech came to its conclusion. Peter and Shuri stepped forward, closing the gap in the circle of heroes, and Bruce began his countdown.

“Three…”

Peter looked down at Shuri’s fingers interlocked with his, as if they were each other’s lifelines, and closed his eyes. _Please don’t let me lose anything else,_ he begged, a whispered prayer. Whether he was praying to some deity in the heavens, or to his own strength and will, he wasn’t sure. _Please let me have what it takes to keep her safe._

“Two…”

He opened his eyes when he felt her gaze on him. She stared at him intently, as if aware of his train of thought, and mouthed one more time: _Together._

 _Together,_ their commitment echoed in his mind. _Always together._

They’d get through this together. They’d protect _each other._

 _Together,_ they’d get the stones and reverse the worst moment of both their lives. They’d restore the universe to its rightful balance—they’d restore _their_ universe. They’d come out on the other side of this victorious, with Mr. Stark, with Aunt May, with T’Challa—with _everyone_ —back.

They’d win. (Together.)

“One.”

( _We’re in this together.)_

Peter gulped in a sharp breath as his world _burst_ into color, his vision tunneling as he felt the floor drop out from beneath his feet. The real world melted away around him, and Peter felt himself _fly._

(And all the while, Peter held on tight to Shuri.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so I was initially planning to include the time heist in this, but I still haven't finished writing it and I'm not sure how many words that will end up being, so I thought that this was a good place to end this chapter at. Anyway, I know some of you were looking forward to the action, so I'll try to get the next few chapters up as soon as I can!
> 
> also!! I might create a tumblr for this account (finally)! I’ve been wanting to interact with other members of this fandom more (I will probably accept prompts), so pls feel free to drop your handle below if you’d like and I’ll add you once I get that sorted out :) 
> 
> as always, let me know what you thought!


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